What It's Like To Be a Female Carpenter In Sulaymaniyah

Working with her hands brings calm for Kanyaw Abubakr, who is proving that Kurdish women can forge a career in woodwork—even as ongoing conflict makes daily life and work more difficult.

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Kanyaw Abubakr is cautious by nature, so her sudden shift from teacher to carpenter came as a surprise. In the Kurdistan Region of Iraq (KRI), carpentry is considered a male profession, but the 29-year-old wanted to “challenge myself and my community at the same time.”

Only a small number of women work in carpentry across Iraq. Traditional ideas around female roles leave little space for less conventional careers in a country where women make up just 14 percent of the labor force. However, recent years have seen a handful of women break barriers in fields traditionally dominated by men as patriarchal norms come under pressure to accommodate a changing workforce.

For Abubakr, the move is more than a career change. After seven years in academia, it’s also a lifestyle choice. At the end of the working day, her mind feels frazzled while her body buzzes with restless energy. Working with wood brings her peace of mind. “I have good hands for making. It feels satisfying to use my body,” she says.

Abubakr has always enjoyed crafts, but this time, a hobby squeezed around work hours isn’t enough. “I don’t want to wait for the future to realize this ambition. I have to start now,” she says.

The former language teacher is not, as she puts it, a natural entrepreneur, though she does have experience as co-founder of a fixer agency that assists journalists in Iraq. Her strengths lie in persistence and a dogged approach to learning. “There are people out there who can make better things, but I’m quick, and I’m interested. I believe everyone can learn if they are dedicated to the work,” she says.

She is relying on this spirit of perseverance to push ahead with her new business, Narewenn, even as the Kurdish region is drawn deeper into the US-Israeli war on Iran. Despite efforts to maintain a neutral stance, the KRI has been targeted by retaliatory strikes due to the presence of US bases and Iranian-backed militias on its territory.

The war has caused major disruptions, exacerbating financial uncertainty, destabilizing oil markets, and curbing economic activity due to prolonged power outages.

Abubakr is usually at the workshop from early morning to late afternoon, but with just a few hours of electricity each day, she has been forced to cut back. The sudden onset of the crisis reinforces the risks that come with investing in a start-up, but it hasn’t dampened her determination. “It’s hard, but we keep working,” she says.

Without start-up capital, Abubakr uses a friend’s workshop while she saves to purchase her own machines. She envisions a large makerspace with sections for woodwork, jewelry, ironwork, and other hand-crafted items. “It feels possible. Such spaces are emerging here,” she says, pointing to flagship projects like the Culture Factory, which have helped establish Sulaymaniyah as the creative capital of Iraqi Kurdistan.

For now, she is focusing on carpentry, filling a gap in the market for high-quality woodwork.

In the past, almost every community in the KRI had a woodworker who took care of houses in the neighborhood, but many have now closed. Abubakr is confident she can make a living from carpentry, but says that to thrive, she will need to innovate. This means creating unique pieces and harnessing social media to market her work. “It’s not as simple as securing a fund to get going. I have to build the business step-by-step,” she says.

Ongoing economic struggles have undermined the potential of small businesses to succeed in the KRI, though recent steps to streamline the regulatory environment have made it simpler to launch startups. Most of Abubakr’s friends work in offices, but a growing number are launching their own businesses, she says. Some see it as a way to supplement income in a country where soaring youth unemployment, an underdeveloped private sector, and a bloated public sector limit opportunities for young Kurds. Others, like Abubakr, are pursuing long-term goals.

“For me, the thinking process is drawn-out, but when I act, it’s decisive,” she says.

On weekends, she visits the local wood market to educate herself about different materials and indulge in the “guilty pleasure” of running her hands over the smooth surfaces. It fuels her creative energies, but Abubakr wonders whether these materials are sustainably sourced. She suspects not. “Most of the wood is imported, so who knows how it was cut,” she says.

As the impacts of regional conflict upend daily life in her hometown, Abubakr finds solace in the workshop, honing her craft. Her current project, an L-shaped table, was inspired by a mid-century Danish design with two identical units that slide together to form different shapes. The joins must be perfect to ensure a seamless fit, so she has turned to her mentor for guidance. “In a matter of months, he has taught me skills that would take much longer to acquire,” says Abubakr, who hopes one day to oversee a team of carpenters.

It’s a bold ambition in a region where female woodworkers are rare, but Abubakr is already changing attitudes. “People assume that because I’m a woman, I won’t be able to use a saw,” she says. “They are always surprised to see the quality of my work.”

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